


Execution

by repentantheroes (MissMadWorld)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Death, Execution, Implied Relationships, M/M, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 02:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMadWorld/pseuds/repentantheroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ed's life is in danger following an unspecified conflict with Cretan military forces. Roy races against the clock to speak on his behalf...will he make it in time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Execution

**Author's Note:**

> I had seen a prompt on tumblr that was something to the effect of, "Your muse is present at my muse's execution," but by the time I got around to writing this I had lost the original post and didn't know who to respond to, soooooo.
> 
> I didn't have a beta, so please let me know if you see crazy errors. I love comments!

Roy leaped from his train car and hit the pavement at a sprint before the train had come to a full stop in the great, echoing station. The breaks of the iron engine rang behind him, too loud as the sound ricocheted around the cathedral-like walls. There was meant to be a car waiting for him outside the station…where was it?! He didn’t have time to waste searching for a cab.

“You’re General Mustang, right? They said to look for a guy in an Amestrian military unifor—“

“I need to be at the Cretan military base in this district five minutes ago, so you had better drive fast,” he barked at the woman flagging him down as he hurdled himself into the back seat of her car. He didn’t have the patience to care if his gruffness startled her, today. Normally he would’ve been disinclined to make such a poor first impression on anyone, but in that moment every gear in his brilliant tactical mind was turning too furiously to focus on anything but his current objective. The Cretan military had been entirely dismissive of any attempts at negotiations over the phone, but Roy would be damned if he couldn’t convince the bastards to turn his subordinate over to him when he showed up in person.

It should’ve taken five minutes from the station to the enormous fortress of the military base, but they made it there in three, thanks to his driver’s blessedly reckless driving. He pitched a fistful of Amestrian cenz over the seat and took off, slamming the door behind him before she could tell him the fare.

He took the stairs two at a time and crashed through the enormous double doors emblazoned with the crest of the Cretan Army.

“Where are you keeping the Amestrian prisoner Edward Elric?” the General bellowed at the nearest person who looked like they had any significant rank to speak of. His voice carried all the authority necessary to bend the will of lesser men. Perhaps shocked by his brusque command, the man (a lieutenant, he now noted) he had addressed blinked shortly at his watch before answering.

“He was scheduled to be removed from his cell five minutes ago. They should’ve taken him to the firing range by now,” he managed with a stutter. Danger sparked in Roy’s eyes. He had hoped to arrive hours before the chosen time, not minutes.

“You!” he barked at one of the peons behind the desk in the middle of the lobby, “start making calls to everyone, anyone who might be at that range and tell them to stop what they’re doing. That man is the responsibility of the Amestrian government and I am here as representative of the military to claim him. And you,” he wheeled on the lieutenant still holding his wrist watch out in front of himself stupidly, “you are going to deliver me too the firing range as quickly as possible.” The orders were delivered and obeyed as though he held any actual authority over this foreign post. The spineless lieutenant practically ran along the narrow corridors with Roy hot on his heels, grateful that this man seemed to understand the necessity for haste.

“It’s just through that door to the courtyard and around the corner to the left,” the man squeaked as Roy booked past him.

Roy bolted out the door and came careening around the corner just as three raised rifles erupted with a cacophonous boom that echoed around the high stone walls, greedily devouring the desperate, “Stop!” that Roy had shouted just a moment too late.

The courtyard gaped open toward the sky, letting rays of sun peek out from behind fluffy white clouds high above to illuminate the scene before him. There was a line of Cretan soldiers facing the pockmarked wall to the left, against which slumped a single golden-haired prisoner. Even if he had somehow regained the use of his alchemy, Ed would’ve been unable to use it. His wrists were pinned in a crudely crafted wooden stockade that kept his palms from ever touching. The stockade itself had been chained up high over his head to a brass ring in the wall, hanging him there like a marionette from its strings. His feet brushed the ground, but no longer bore his weight.

“ _No_ ,” Roy thought helplessly. He might’ve said it aloud...might’ve shouted it, screamed it over and over as he shot to Edward’s side, but he couldn’t hear himself over the rush of his own desperate emotions. He ignored the flabbergasted host of Cretan soldiers as he clapped his hands together fiercely and slammed them into the wall next to his subordinate, destroying the brass ring and the stockade in a heartbeat. He caught Edward’s limp weight as the young man’s broken body pitched forward. Roy lowered him carefully to the ground, cradling Ed’s upper body against his shoulder.

“Edward! Ed, wake up, god damn it!” he pressed his gloved hand against two weeping holes in Edward’s torso. One of the idiot soldiers had missed. In the distance Roy heard a phone ringing on its hook. “WHY DIDN’T SOMEONE ANSWER THE PHONE?!” Roy demanded furiously of the Cretans surrounding him with shock apparent on their faces.

“Fullmetal, you open your eyes right now! That’s an order!” Ed looked so small, compared to the red stain blossoming across his torso.

With a raking wheeze, Edward’s eyes flickered open.

“Stop yelling at me, you idiot. Can’t you see I’m dying?”

“I am not going to let you die under my command, you insolent little runt,” Roy hoped that pissing Ed off would motivate his recently reinstated subordinate to keep fighting.

“Get me a medic before I raze this place to the fucking ground!” Roy roared over his shoulder. Two soldiers rushed away after a nod from their superior officer.

“Don’t…you dare,” Edward gurgled around a mouthful of blood, “don’t you dare become a murderer again. Not on my account.” The blood stained his teeth like wine.

“Then don’t die!” Roy snapped. His authoritative tone began to slip. Desperation was creeping through. “You can’t die. I have to tell you—“

“Shut up,” Ed whined as he spit a mouthful of crimson out onto the dirt, “there are a lot of things we’re not gonna get to say…and have…and do. I’d rather you…didn’t list them out for me…right before I croak.” His voice was growing softer, harsher. Each pause in his speech demanded a shallow intake of breath. It was a familiar sight; Roy knew what a collapsed lung looked like. He knew what bleeding out looked like, too. He brought a steady hand up to rest against the narrow column of Ed’s throat and let his thumb sweep delicately across his jaw.

“But I—“

“I know,” _wheeze_ , “you idiot. You’re here, aren’t you?”

Ed’s gaze began to grow distant.

“No. No, no, no, Fullmetal.” With one hand still pressed to the two ragged wounds, he shook the body in his arms weakly.

“Edward, the medic is coming. _Please_.”

In the opposite corner of the courtyard, the phone still rang. Roy tipped his head back toward the too-blue sky, and it began to rain.


End file.
